


cold kiss

by TheOccasionalSquirrel



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), College, Gay Keith (Voltron), Keith (Voltron) is So Done, Keith (Voltron) works at a diner, Keith is a college drop out, Lance (Voltron) Angst, M/M, Pining Keith (Voltron), Secret Relationship, Soccer player Lance, Waiter Keith (Voltron), it's just a little bit of fun, that's about it, there's subtle drama somewhere in there, they makeout
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:48:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27610243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheOccasionalSquirrel/pseuds/TheOccasionalSquirrel
Summary: “Babe? Seriously?” Keith asks and Lance shrugs.“I have a reputation,” and Keith could kiss away the stupid smile off of Lance’s lips. Of course he does. Of course Keith knows. And of course Keith knows it’s unwarranted.
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 115





	cold kiss

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MrsLionheart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsLionheart/gifts).



Keith likes to think he’s a pretty strong guy, he frequents the gym and jogs in the morning, and carrying six large milkshakes on a platter takes some strength. But then he reaches the table, doing his best to tune out the conversation his ex-peers are having, and the barely contained muscles held back by a team jacket with “McClain” on the back glares at him. Tells him he will never be that strong.

“Ugh, finally,” the owner of the jacket scowls as he nudges the guy beside him- a friend? A hookup?- to make space for their artificial sugary drinks. The strawberries in that milkshake are about as authentic as all of Lance McClain’s friendships, but Keith Kogane doesn’t say that. 

“Anything else?” is what he asks, is what he’s being paid to ask. And honestly, were it in any other town, working at Marmora diner wouldn’t even be that bad. Having half the locals call it “MarMar” instead because the damn “A”-sign never worked no matter how often Keith tinkered with it, and those  _ awful _ milkshakes ending up on the floor more often than in customer’s stomachs would have been bearable. But not in this town. Not here, where the locals lived and breathed soccer and Lance McClain, star captain of the soccer team was their messiah. 

“No thanks babe,” he has the audacity to wink and the girl across from him gives him a scalding glare. Keith is unimpressed, but then again, he never got far enough into college to understand the dynamics.

He understands enough though, Keith was far, far below Lance on the social hierarchy. A college drop-out working a minimum wage job at a college town. So Keith walks away, tends another table, serves another stupid milkshake, pretends he doesn’t feel the heat of Lance’s eyes on him. Pretends not to look at him.

Fuck.

He needs to focus, he almost spills chocolate milkshake all over a customer before his manager sends him to the back for his break. 

Keith chews smoke, a lit cigarette offering him better sustenance than anything else that would turn his stomach. Lance shouldn’t have come here tonight. 

It’s been too long since they last saw each other, after all. 

He throws it away and runs his hands down his face. 

Focus. 

“Fuck,” he mumbles, and slaps some blood into his cheeks. Less than an hour left of this shift, and then he only has to close up. He can do this. 

Focus. 

He goes back in.

Lance orders another round of drinks and Keith delivers, balancing six stupid milkshakes on one stupid platter. 

“Anything else? We’ve got a happy hour on fries now,” he adds this time, he’s schooled his voice and his tone back into a waiter. The girl who gave Lance a scalding look before orders some for herself, any weirdness she notices on Keith chalked up to Lance being there. She’s smart, Keith thinks, but the people here are too into their dumb social hierarchy to suspect anything odd. 

Keith serves their table, and another one, and then another one. 

Coran, the manager, serves them the fact that the diner is closing as a friendly reminder, and Keith snickers when it turns unfriendly. He wipes vanilla milkshake off of vinyl.

Lance’s table lingers, of course. No one would ever be so crass with their local celebrity. No one would ever be so crass with friendly and gregarious Lance, who got Coran to laugh after a 10 hour shift. Keith cleans up milkshake and grease stains from their table past closing time, hearing the bell ring as the soccer player finally leaves. 

He mops the floor and wipes the windows, ignoring the little flashing light beyond the neon sign saying “MarMar”, ignoring the silhouette of a man that the neon lights can’t quite touch. He needs to finish work. 

Coran locks the door. “Take the trash out, good work today Keith!” Coran says, and then remembers the front door needs to be unlocked for him to leave. Keith chuckles and heads out the back. He chucks the two trash bags into the dumpster and locks up the diner, still pretending Lance doesn’t exist. Pretending Lance isn’t there, leaning against the back wall of the diner, his clean jacket staining the dirty bricks. 

Pretending Lance’s lips aren’t pink and soft and so kissable, his hair pretty and soft and just  _ begging  _ to have Keith run his fingers through it. 

“Try looking more desperate next time, maybe they’ll notice,” Keith says as a way of greeting. He’s mad, he’s tired, he’s standing in front of Lance- eye to eye, lip to lip. 

“I can’t help it, have you tried looking less hot?” Lance thinks he’s funny, he’s not, his mouth is just pretty. 

Keith rolls his eyes.

“Babe? Seriously?” Keith asks and Lance shrugs. 

“I have a reputation,” and Keith could kiss away the stupid smile off of Lance’s lips. Of course he does. Of course Keith knows. And of course Keith knows it’s unwarranted. 

Lance can be stupid. He’s the captain of the soccer team and  _ way _ into the faux social hierarchy his college keeps up, but he’s not a cheater. He’s not a player. 

But he needs  _ something _ to cover for the fact that he hasn’t  _ officially _ dated anyone for over 6 months. 

That doesn’t mean Keith likes it. 

“I missed you,” Lance confesses, and Keith ignores how it makes his heart skip a beat. 

“Shut up,” he says instead, and cups his face before kissing him. Their lips crash like two tectonic plates against one another, and Keith’s victory by surprise only lasts a few seconds before Lance wraps his arms around Keith’s waist. 

It’s been  _ far _ too long. 

Lance is only smart when kissing him, Keith concludes, because his boyfriend turns them so  _ he  _ is pressed against the dirty wall. Keith is ready to swoon- but he’s stronger than that. Instead he focuses on Lance’s cold lips, chasing the taste of strawberries and artificial sugar from their kiss.

A cold kiss is what all of this is, but Keith knows that Lance’s heart burns for him. After all, Keith feels the same forest fire blossom in his own chest.

So bright and warm, he is afraid of the day it all comes pouring out. 

**Author's Note:**

> i might do a part 2 of this and include arson in it . i don't know


End file.
